Olympic
by smiles555fofo
Summary: based on Hunger Games -AU. Tsuna had no regrets volunteering for her friend to be a competitor in the Olympic, but there's always fear crawling on her skin. Against the odds, she'll strive to survive in a game of kill. 80FEM27
1. Beginning

**Disclaimer:** I don't own KHR or the Hunger Games. DUR.

**Note:** Based on the Hunger Games, but doesn't follow the storyline exactly so it won't be predictable.

**Genre:** Adventure, action, drama, and romance.

**Pairings:** 8027

/00/

The morning started out as usual. The rising sun peeked out of the horizon, its bright orange rays coloring the sky. The alarm clock that sat on the stand began ringing loudly, arousing Tsuna to drowsily sit up on her bed. She slammed her hand onto the button, cutting off the annoying sound, and shuffled across the icy floorboards to get dressed up.

Tsuna hated how freezing mornings can be, and she always made haste to slip on her jacket. After tying on the laces of her knee-high boots, she retrieved her bow and quiver that were propped against the wall. She flexed her fingers out of slumber's sluggishness and ventured outside, being careful not to be so loud as to awaken her mother.

If it was freezing in her house, then the outside was unforgiving. Biting zephyrs brushed against her cheeks, making her to shiver. Tsuna slung her legs over the fence and walked towards the forest.

Though she was slow-minded, she eventually took notice how little activity there was in the village, save for the marching folks that were headed to the mine caves that could be seen as silhouettes against the sun's light. The only noises that could be heard to her ears were the songs of Mockingjays and the crunching beneath her boots. This could mean only one thing: the Olympic was today. She cursed silently about how she could forget such an important day as she scurried deeper into the woods. Even yesterday night she inwardly chanted herself to sleep to not forget about the Olympics. Tsuna needed to prepare so much in twelve hours, in case if her name was drawn out as one of the representatives of District Twelve.

This nation, that once had a different name that was long lost gone, was Panem. Its most notifying historic mark started when the twelve divided boroughs began rebelling against the Capitol, the authority of Panem. When control was restored, the Capitol decided that as punishment an annual game was to be held, a very cruel game. Each district was to offer a boy and a girl of the age twelve to eighteen to participate in the Olympic, to be pitted against one another in the name of life or death. The Capitol, residing in District One, would sit back and watch the game from a camera that viewed every one of the competitors, either claiming stakes or being entertained of the bloody outcomes. In the end, the survivor would receive an enormous amount of money, some even moved to District One or Two to live a well-heeled life.

For the past four years, Tsuna's name hadn't been drawn as the female counterpart; however, this year can be expected. A person's name is written the multiple times equivalent to the age. Tsuna's name had been entered sixteen times, and she couldn't hope to press her luck any further than it had for all these years. She had been lucky, and she would use up that luck if she wasn't selected to be in the Olympic today.

Every year had been the same. If she were to be selected, then Tsuna would do what she could to collect profusion of fresh-kill and nuts; perhaps the baker would even give her a well trade for a quail or a squirrel. Her mother grew delicate—emotionally and physically—ever since the accident at the caves five years ago. The woman was stronger than before, but yet unable to provide for herself. Sawada Nana needed all the help she could get when living in the rough and difficult District Twelve, thus why Tsuna was going to work harder today than any other day. She was going to fill the usually empty cabinets with food.

After the last leap over a creek, Tsuna crouched low behind shrubbery and pulled the string of her bow. It didn't take long for a squirrel to run by, and Tsuna released the arrow. The arrowhead protruded the skull and into the bark of a tree, having the animal's body dangling—this was something that she had practiced for years in order to not rupture the edible parts. She picked up her kill and found nuts stored inside its cheeks—two in one, how lucky.

"Oi, Sawada."

Out of the bushes appeared Sasagawa. "Mornin'!"

"Morning," she replied softly.

The boy offered her a beaming grin before handing her a heavy bag full of berries. "Got a bunch already. You know, it's the season and all."

She nodded. "Thank you, Sasagawa. You shouldn't be walking around without your cane."

"Feh, I'm not as clumsy as you, Sawada, with or without my cane." He gave a dismissive wave. Tsuna sighed, shaking her head. "Besides, the Olympic is today, so I have to be at my extreme shape!"

"You have a bad leg," she admonished lightly, "so don't strain yourself."

Of course, he ignored the warning as he waddled over to a flourished bush. His awkward walk was more evident without his cane. His leg had to be amputated ever since the cave accident. In place of flesh and bone was a wooden imitation.

Tsuna had wondered if Sasagawa ever worried about being one of the competitors. He often displayed a cheerful and loud disposition, but less so ever since the death of his sister. It was curious as to how the boy could never let his spirit be jaded by trials of life—food deficiency, over-working, loss of a limb, and loss of a family member. Tsuna could relate somehow—she had lost her father, and Sasagawa's sister, Kyoko, had been her friend. Also, they were given responsibilities at a young age. It was harder on Tsuna, though, since she was terribly clumsy and incompetent; her mastership on the bow and arrow, however, was emblazoned as near-professional due to her dedication. Before his death, her father had taught her all she needed to know about the bow and arrow.

The girl watched Sasagawa in case he would topple over and in need of assistance, but that was rarely required. Muscle padded his arms and leg from life's experience in fishing, wood-chopping, setting snares, and gutting animals. She mused whether Sasagawa had considered taking in a wife and establishing a family, especially since he was almost eighteen. He would make a good husband and father regardless of being handicap, albeit one shouldn't think he or she would live that long when not over the age of nineteen. After all, the chances of being a competitor in the Olympic were high as the numbers are added to your age. Sasagawa Ryohei was seventeen-years-old right now, and he could be a competitor despite his leg.

Tsuna shook her head. No, how could he? He managed not being chosen for this long, so maybe luck was on his side.

He won't receive the same fate as Kyoko.

They gathered their gain and headed back to the village. Tsuna listlessly nodded and made noncommittal sounds while Sasagawa chattered with gusto, as if no one was going to be elected as mindless game pieces for a horrendous game. That's what Tsuna liked about Sasagawa. No one needs to be reminded of such day, and being careless for this moment was heavenly enough.

She routinely headed towards the bakery, and was surprised when the baker gave her a loaf for a squirrel. The bread was still warm. She trotted back to Sasagawa who was equally surprised.

"You think he might've gotten up too early?"

Tsuna shrugged. "Maybe."

Or it could be the Olympic.

Next they went to the bargaining shop. It was ran by an elderly woman, and though she as resolute as a mule, she was mighty fair with prices. Tsuna could never haggle deals with the lady for she was always easily intimidated by her sharp eyes and sour grimace and voice that went agonizingly high with fiery. Yet somehow Sasagawa was able to handle her—it was either his incredible denseness or nonchalance. Nevertheless, Tsuna liked the trades they get from the woman—they often come to be useful equipment or trail mixes from other districts.

Finished with their bargaining, the two were about to exit the shop when they ran into Miura Haru. Miura was in Tsuna's class in school and often paired up when partnership was involved in assignments. Tsuna couldn't say that they were friends—they seldom talked to each other; one of the loners in the community that they were, but that was probably because Miura was the mayor's daughter. Tsuna just didn't associate with other people than Sasagawa and her mother. However, she had seen the girl animatedly discuss with her family members.

Miura was wearing a white dress with frills at the bottom, brushing against her knees, and complimenting it went with a black cardigan. Rather than in its usual high ponytail, Miura had her hair let down. A golden badge taking in form of a Mockingjay was pinned on her chest. She looked beautiful.

It was required to get gussied up for the drawing of names.

Terrible.

"Nice dress," Sasagawa commented.

It wasn't ridiculing, it wasn't sarcastic. It was told casually, like saying the sky was blue.

Miura's eyes narrowed, searching for any negativity that could've been directed at her, but when she found that he was being genuine, she smiled friendly-like. "Thank you," she said, curtsying.

The tension suddenly went below zero as Miura walked past them. Tsuna kept her mouth shut the entire time, not daring to break the silence. Sasagawa had been bitter ever since Kyoko had died in the Olympic; he abhorred it with a severe passion ever since then. Tsuna thought she would feel the same way since the game took away her only best friend, but found that she couldn't even conjure a cry. They weren't even that close, looks like.

They split their share and went back to their homes. Tsuna had difficulty lugging in a big sack full of food before, but after years of doing it she eventually got used to it. Her arms never obtained strength, unfortunately—they were still stick-like. Her hands, nonetheless, were scratchy and callused; there were even scars around her knuckles that implied snare mishaps.

There were girls, like Kyoko, like her mother, who would be slaved away in homes preparing meals or knitting blankets, and the men would go to the mine caves to dig up coal. That was how it worked in the poorest part of District Twelve, the Seam. The coalminers then would ship the load to the merchants, the "wealthy" of the district. Well, far wealthier than being a resident in the Seam. Tsuna didn't know what daughters of merchants did outside of their school lives, but she could only guess they did the same housework like any other girl in District Twelve, and her mother had told her once about her life in the merchant section. Her mother was a daughter of a merchant, and then moved to the Seam when she fell in love with her father.

Obviously, Tsuna differed from other girls. For one, girls normally didn't go out hunting; and two, they didn't have a scruffy appearance like her. Not that Tsuna had anything to worry about her looks; they were in District Twelve, the poorest district in the nation, which meant that hard work was the only endearing quality one can have here, and it wasn't as if she desired to have a husband. She definitely wasn't suited to be a wife, and she didn't want to have kids. Why have children when they would be admitted to be in the Olympic anyway?

It made Tsuna curious as to why future's generation continued to exist when the older knew that they were destined to be slaughtered in a game. Perhaps they were in high hopes that their children would resolve to the corruptness of the Capitol by a new revolution. Tsuna thought it would be better if the human race ceased to exist, that way the nation's authority would have nothing to govern.

She opened the door and set the sack against the table leg. "I'm home," Tsuna called.

"In here!" her mother said from the quarters.

Tsuna found the woman lying down a white blouse and a black skirt on the bed. Nana propped her hands on her waist and smiled with satisfaction before turning to her daughter. "I found the perfect outfit for you to wear."

"Mom, why do you go through the trouble of doing this?" Tsuna sighed. "It's the Olympic, nothing to put anyone in a celebratory mood."

"I know, but even so, I want to have the chance of dressing my baby in pretty clothes." Her mother walked towards Tsuna, wrapping her into a hug and kissing her forehead.

Tsuna couldn't deny the fact that she _did_ feel pretty whenever her mother would take her time dressing her and doing her hair. She figured that when your child was sent to a death trap, then you'd want to spend all your time witnessing your child's best, right?

After putting on the clothes and tucking her blouse in, the young girl was ushered to sit on the chair that was situated before a small mirror hanging on the wall. Mirrors were rather rare in District Twelve, but somehow the woman managed to smuggle one from the merchant section. Nana began to hum as she gently brushed Tsuna's spiky locks until they were smoothed down, sticking onto the perspiration from her neck. Tsuna tried her best to wash up before changing, but the prior activity already worked her out.

"There." Hands held her shoulders. "Lovely as a Mockingjay's song."

"Will you be attending this year?" Tsuna asked.

"Of course! I must."

"Mom." She took her mother's frail hands. So cold. So thin. "You're not feeling well, so you should stay and get rest. I got herbs from the bargaining lady that'll make you feel better."

"Tsu-chan, I'm fine, really," Nana insisted, frowning.

Tsuna shook her head. "I'm not blind, Mom. You're as pale as snow. You've been getting another nightmare, right? You should stay here and get some sleep."

After some persuading, the mother reluctantly relented. Tsuna made sure the woman had settled in bed, and went to the fireplace and set the pot above it to make the herb tea. Before leaving to fetch a mug, her mother inquired, "You'll be back before the sun sets, right?"

"Of course," Tsuna promised.

"Good. I love you, Tsu-chan."

"I love you too, Mom."

Tsuna left the house to finish other chores before the drawing could begin.

/00/

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** When I went onto the KHR stories, I just noticed how there were few new fans of 8027, so I decided that I might take a wing at this one pairing. I think it's cute, and it's a nice change from the many G27 and 1827 stories. I dedicate this story to 8027 fans, and I hope that they don't mind me genderblending Tsuna again.


	2. Drawing

**AN: **Thank you for the two who had reviewed my story! Now I have the confidence to continue.

* * *

><p>Tsuna had finished eating her dinner. She consumed all the broth from the bowl, running her tongue across her teeth to swipe away any vegetable residue, and set the dishes into the sink. After washing the dishes and drying her hands, she went to the back of the kitchen to haul the sack onto the table. During her chores, Tsuna had gotten a stain on her skirt, and it spread when she attempted to dab it with a wet cloth. Good thing that the skirt was black, she figured.<p>

It was about six o'clock when the drawing occurred. Attendance at the town square was mandatory, and there were officers from the Capitol swarming around to make sure that there weren't hideaways; if caught, prison would be the unalterable fate. However, those closing in on to death's door were always excused—there wasn't any point in dragging in the ill or the old. It was a known issue of Sawada Nana's health that had eventually reached the officers' ears, so they would omit the mother every year henceforth.

Tsuna didn't think that her mother was going to die anytime soon, but she was very much aware that the woman was terribly weak. It was fortunate that she would get to miss the dreadful drawing anyway.

What was also dreadful—and this was a shared opinion amongst many—was that the drawing had to be held in the square, which was the most pleasant part of District Twelve. The square was surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if the weather was pleasant, there was a holiday feel to it that would get Tsuna's blood rushing from delight. Nevertheless, despite the brightly colored banners that hung on the buildings, the atmosphere was grim and silent. The camera crew that perched on rooftops like hungry vultures only added on to the effect.

Cubicles were stationed outside of the square where the people filed in to sign. This was a way to keep tabs on the population. Twelve to eighteen year olds were herded to their designated age groups. Family members were lined up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands and murmuring prayers.

Others, who had no one to love at stake, or no longer cared, took bets on which would be drawn. Odds were given on their ages, whether from the Seam or the merchant section, if they would break down and weep. Tsuna didn't know much about the betting grounds these people had made up, but it wasn't like she wanted to know. She preferred to keep to herself.

The space became smaller as more people arrived. Though the square was large, it wasn't able to hold District Twelve's population of eight thousand. Latecomers would be directed to the adjacent streets, where they could watch the event on screens as it would be televised live by the state.

Tsuna was shoved to a clump of sixteen-year-olds from the Seam. They didn't give any indication of her presence as they focused their attention on the temporary stage that was set up before the Justice Building. Tsuna did the same as well. On the stage were three chairs, a podium, and two large glass bowls containing paper slips with names written on, one for the boys and one for the girls. Sixteen of those slips had Sawada Tsuna written on.

On the chairs sat Miura's father, the mayor, and Carcassa Skull, District Twelve's escort, fresh from the Capitol with his odd purple hair, ear-to-lip chain piercing, and dark leather jumpsuit. It could be seen that the two were talking to one another in quick-mouthed sentences, the mayor appearing to be concern and Skull irritated. They kept glancing at the empty seat.

By the time the town clock stroke six, the mayor stepped up to the podium and began to read the script that was laid out for him. He told the history of Panem, listing the droughts, storms, disasters, and fires. He told them about the past wars, but more particularly about Panem's revolt. Thirteen districts that stood against the Capitol, twelve defeated and the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave the people new laws to guarantee peace and, as a yearly reminder that such event must not be repeated, gave them the Olympic. It was the same story told every year.

The rules of the Olympic were simple but hard to carryout. In punishment for the uprising, each district was to offer one boy and one girl, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes would be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute would win.

Taking children from their homes and forcing them to kill one another while the districts would watch on a large televised screen was the Capitol's way of showing how the people were at their mercy. Nausea pooled in Tsuna's stomach every time she thought about it, and it would make Sasagawa ground his teeth.

Whatever words were used, the real message was clear, sneering and smirking. "Look how we take your kids and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift one finger, we'll happily destroy every last one of you, just like we did to District Thirteen."

The ash remains of District Thirteen were still there.

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol required the people to treat the Olympic as a festivity, a sporting affair, not like a sentence to hell. The last tribute alive would earn a big reward: money, food, and a life of ease. All year, the Capitol would show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest would battle starvation.

"It is a time for repentance and thanks," intoned Miura's father.

Then he read the list of past District Twelve victors. In seventy-four years, the poor district only had two. Both dead.

Afterwards, a tall man dressed in black walked across the stage with long strides and sat down in his seat, eliciting a scowl on Skull's face. Reborn was notorious for being late to these events and being a fiend to Skull. He was also a mysterious figure who bore no surname, at least that's what it seemed to be. It wasn't even known whether Reborn was his actual name or not.

Given that all this was on air nationwide, the mayor, as Tsuna could see from where she was standing, subdued his surprise when Reborn made his appearance. The mayor then introduced Skull.

"A merry Olympic day," Skull said, a smirk embracing his painted lips, "and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

He went on a bit about what an honor it was to be here, although it was a no brainer that the young man was aching to get bumped up to a better district and a different partner.

Through the crowd, Tsuna spotted Sasagawa who was looking back at her with a faint smile. As far as drawings go, this one at least had a slight entertainment, watching how much more Skull could take presenting before a filthy borough. Suddenly, Tsuna thought about Sasagawa and his seventeen names in the big glass ball. Tsuna hoped that the odds were _not_ in his favor, just like every other year. But then again, there weren't that many seventeen and eighteen year olds to begin with. Sasagawa must've been thinking the same thing when he frowned and hung his head.

Tsuna wished that she was standing next to him right now. If she was, then she could murmur next to him, "There are still thousands of slips." But then again, he wouldn't approve her saying that.

It was time for the drawing. Skull reached his hand into the ball that contained the boys' names. When he pulled out a slip, everyone drew in a collective breath as an eerie silence layered the crowd. At that moment, Tsuna knew that she had just foiled with fate. It was over.

Skull crosses back to the podium, smoothed out the crinkle of the paper, and read the name in a loud and clear voice.

"Sasagawa Ryohei."

* * *

><p>One time, when Tsuna was hiding in a tree, waiting for food to fly or scurry by (a bird, a squirrel, basically anything), she dozed off and tilted backwards, then falling. She landed from ten feet on her back and the impact knocked every wisp of air from her lungs, and she had laid there writhing in panic when the struggle to inhale was too great.<p>

That was how she felt. Unable to take a breath, as if something was lodged in her throat, Tsuna stopped breathing. She felt a hand grip onto her arm. Someone was gripping onto her arm. Tsuna must've begun to fall that someone had caught her.

She really had pushed her luck, jinxing Sasagawa like that. The odds were now in his favor now.

But she knew, she always knew, that Sasagawa, this year or the next, would be chosen to be a tribute, a competitor in the game of bloodshed. But she pushed away the forecast and substituted it with tenacious hope. She had _hoped_ that Sasagawa would not be picked, like his sister. She had _hoped_ that he would continue to live and not be destined to be killed.

It was literally signing a contract for death. His wooden leg would drag him down.

And it wasn't just that…Sasagawa would never give the Capitol the pleasure of actually participating. Tsuna was so sure that he would just sit there like a stubborn child. But the Capitol had so much power—anyone who they didn't like, off with his head.

It could be seen on the screen hanging above that Sasagawa was gripping onto his cane till his knuckle was white. He wore on an impassive face, in spite of the situation, like the kind when he would show when he was treating a hysterical Tsuna the large slash on her leg due to a snare mishap. As he hobbled over to the front, murmuring filled the square as eyes watched him go.

Tsuna saw that the back of his white oxford shirt was untucked, hanging over his black slacks. Sasagawa was never good at keeping his shirt tucked in, and when it would come loose he would ask her to tuck it back in again. This year, they failed to meet up at the cubicles.

Times of when they fished together, ate together, talked together, gazed under the stars together…When Sasagawa would convey family tales to Tsuna, knowing that even though she held her head low she was listening with rapt attention…Moments like these came crashing down.

This had brought her back to earth.

"S-Sasagawa," she managed to gasp out, and suddenly it became much easier to breathe. "Sasagawa!"

She didn't need to push her away through the crowd as they stepped back, forming a path for her directly to the handicap. Tsuna could see how his eyes went wide when he saw her bolting towards him, and when she placed herself before him he whispered, "Sawada?"

"I—I…!" She swallowed heavily. "I volunteer!"

There was confusion on the stage. District Twelve hadn't had a volunteer in decades and the protocol had become rusty. The rule was that once a tribute's name had been pulled, an eligible boy or girl could step forward. In some districts, in which winning the drawing was a great honor, people were eager to risk their lives, making the volunteering overused and complicated. But in District Twelve, tribute was as synonymous as death.

"Oh, well then." Skull rubbed his chin. "That's lovely, but there is a small matter of introducing the drawing winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come up—"

"What does it matter?" Reborn interjected coolly. Tsuna met his eyes, and suppressed a flinch at the dark orbs regarding her in a calculating manner, as if she was a bug in a box. "Let the girl forward."

Sasagawa was screaming behind her, gripping onto her with both hands and abandoning his cane. "Sawada, _you moron!_ You extremely can't!"

Tsuna ignored him, and steeled herself when others pried him off her. Every step on the stairs came with a howl from her friend. It hurt.

"Bravo, bravo, little lady," Skull said. "That's certainly the spirit of the Olympic, eh?" Satisfaction glinted in his eyes, obvious that he was happy for the turn of action. "What's your name?"

"Sawada Tsuna," she said softly.

"Well, Sawada Tsuna, that was some courage you displayed there. How about a standing ovation?"

But no one clapped. Not even the ones holding bets, the ones beyond caring. It didn't really make sense though, since Tsuna was known to be Dame-Tsuna, the girl who was nearly useless at everything. She did get teased a lot and didn't have any friends aside from Sasagawa. She was the kid who would keep her head low and hardly utter a word. Tsuna would've thought that everyone would've been somewhat relieved to get rid of boring and incompetent Sawada.

Perhaps it was because they acknowledged the sacrifice that she had made in order to save Sasagawa, the widely beloved dunderhead. Perhaps they knew that she was the daughter of Sawada Iemitsu, the man who did many great things unlike her, or that they had met her sickly mother, who everyone couldn't help loving.

So she just stood there before the silent crowd. This was probably the boldest dissent they could manage in seventy-four years, whether it was for Tsuna or their pride. Either way, the girl felt a rush of honor and, for once, was able to hold her head high, daring the Capitol to bring it on. But she was in danger of bursting into tears the more desperate Sasagawa sounded from the crowd.

Behind her, someone clapped. It was Reborn.

"There, now let's get on with it, shall we, Skull?"

Skull huffed at the man's indifference but followed the subtle order. "Well, since we got our female tribute…" He reached back into the bowl and pulled out another slip. After returning to the podium, Skull read, "Yamamoto Takeshi."

Yamamoto Takeshi!

Tsuna tensed.

Amidst the crowd, all eyes turned to look at the blanching boy—the paling was an ugly contrast to his tanned neck and short hair. He slowly made his way to the stage. Tall in height, lean in build, spiky black hair.

The shock of the moment was still registering on his face, visible that he was trying to remain emotionless, but his hazel-light eyes showed alarm. When he took his place next to Tsuna, practically towering over her five foot one, Skull began to ask for any volunteers. No one was willing to take his place.

This was standard. Family or friend devotion only went so far for most people. What Tsuna did was a radical thing. However, it wasn't cowardice that prevented people from making such sacrifice; it was commonsensical and self-preservation.

The mayor began reading the long, dull Treaty of Treason as he does every year at this point—it was required—but Tsuna wasn't listening. Not that she would listen anyway and would zone off into space like every year; sadly this year wasn't like any other year.

Tsuna stood uncomfortably stiff, as if someone dumped wet concrete over her and the paste immediately glued her arms to her side. Cold sweat covered her body. She tried to imagine that Yamamoto wasn't next to her but failed. The very idea that he could be the one she had to kill, and likewise for him, made things very complicated to be in.

It wasn't that she and he were friends—he wasn't even a Seam resident, and they weren't on speaking terms. In fact, neither of them ever had any interaction before. Tsuna knew Yamamoto because his many town friends would call his name after him. He was cheerful, friendly—at least that's what he seemed to be.

Ironically, he happened to be the son of the baker who Tsuna and Sasagawa would deliver fresh kill for trade. She would sometimes see Yamamoto working in the bakery, hauling in heavy trays or kneading dough. When he's not working, when Tsuna would return from a hunt, she would see him laughing, playing a game with the town boys with a bat and ball.

She had always felt a wave of apprehension whenever town people were near. They were the type of folk who get to work less than the people of the Seam. Her mother was once like that, until she moved in with her father. It was odd, in that sense, that Yamamoto and Tsuna lived in different worlds even though they were in the same district.

Maybe, aside from Yamamoto living in the town and Tsuna the Seam, it was because of his carefree spirit and how he was surrounded by many people. Tsuna was unfamiliar with people like them, thus wary. Truthfully, she was envious of him and wished to be in the same position as him—to laugh, to talk. It wasn't fair, she had decided upon one day, that how someone like her must endure hardships, harder trials to face than what Yamamoto obviously was ignorant of.

The mayor finished the Treaty of Treason and motioned for the two to shake hands. Yamamoto's long fingers encase Tsuna's small palm. It was as warm as the loaves of bread his father would bake. He looked at Tsuna in the eye and gave her hand a squeeze, as if to reassure her everything was going to be alright.

But Tsuna wasn't fooled. She couldn't be fooled. By the time they step into the arena, they would be mortal enemies.

They turned back o face the crowd as the anthem of Panem played.


End file.
